The Center of the Maelstrom
by TJ-TeeJay
Summary: For the first time in days, Matt and Foggy talk about the elephant in the room. Really talk. Missing scene from episode 1x13 "Daredevil".


**Title:** The Center of the Maelstrom  
 **Author:** TeeJay  
 **Genre:** Gen  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Matt, Foggy  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Warning:** Spoilers for all of season 1  
 **Summary:** For the first time in days, Matt and Foggy talk about the elephant in the room. _Really_ talk. Missing scene from episode 1x13 "Daredevil".  
 **Author's Note:** There's nothing quite like going into a show reluctantly, and ending up loving it so much that you feel the urge to write for it. There's just something about the Matt  & Foggy dynamic that wanted me to explore how they might bridge that gaping chasm that the end of episode 10 cut between them. This scene follows the one in episode 13 where Foggy seeks Matt out in the boxing gym. (Regrettably, this hasn't been beta'ed, which I apologize for.)  
 **Disclaimer:** None of this is mine except for my vivid imagination. Copyright to characters and situations belongs to Drew Goddard, Marvel Entertainment, Netflix, and whoever else might wish to claim ownership. I'm just borrowing for a little escapism and a whole lot of fun.

* * *

" _We?_ " Matt asked in surprise. "I thought Nelson & Murdock were over."

Foggy tried to calm his temper, his eyes fixed on his friend, who was nervously jiggling the folded up white cane in his left hand. Foggy could read a sadness in Matt's eyes that he didn't usually let people see.

He looked down, then back at his friend. "There's nothing I want more than to find a way back to where we were, but... I don't know if we can."

"No, we can't. But maybe we can find a way to move forward, Foggy."

Those last words spoke of hope and relief, and Foggy was glad that he'd mustered up the courage to come here tonight.

"I'd like that," he said, which made Matt's mouth curve into a small smile. Foggy hadn't seen Matt smile in a long time. He took another step closer to his friend. "Look, can we talk about this?"

"Didn't we just do that?" Matt turned his back to his friend, walking towards the door.

Foggy hurried after him. "No, I mean, over beer, or something. Don't you think we have more to talk about?"

Matt sighed but kept walking. "I smell like... well, like I've just beat the shit out of a punching bag for half an hour. I need to shower, change. I'm tired, Foggy. Some other time?"

Foggy broke into a jog to plant himself in front of his friend. He was suddenly very sure it was now or never. "There's beer in your fridge, right?"

At first Matt looked as if he was going to give him a rebuff, but then reluctantly said, "Yeah."

"Okay, cool."

* * *

The gym was within easy walking distance to Matt's apartment, and Foggy listened to the rhythmic clicking of Matt's cane on the sidewalk as he fell into step beside him. A light drizzle had started to fall, which turned into heavier rain that had them quicken their pace.

None of them knew what else to say with the nocturnal bustle of the city around them and the steady rainfall an untimely inconvenience to endure. A siren wailed in the distance, and Foggy wondered how much earlier than him Matt might have detected the sound.

Foggy was wet and slightly out of breath by the time they reached Matt's building. Man, he really needed to get in shape.

Matt let them in, heading into the bedroom to return with a towel and a baggy sweatshirt. "Here," he said as he handed Foggy the items. "Give me fifteen minutes."

Foggy peeled off his wet clothes and dried himself off, thankful for the safe and dry harbor of his friend's home. He switched on a few of the lights, wandering around the living room. There was a pile of broken and splintered wood in the corner, which he haphazardly started to clean up.

He heard the shower turn off in the bathroom and went over to the window. The last time he'd stood here, the light from the giant billboard screen outside screaming flashy messages at him, he'd been bitter, disappointed and hurt.

And he still was, but the insulation he'd wrapped around those feelings had dulled them to a bearable level. He closed his eyes and tried to listen. The raindrops made drippy sounds on the window sills outside. There was a quiet hum of passing cars, a horn honking not too far away.

He reached out with his hand to touch the glass and felt for the metal bars separating the window panes. They were cool to the touch, almost moist beneath his fingertips. A shiver ran down his spine.

From behind he heard soft footsteps approaching. "What are you doing?" Matt asked.

"Don't you ever wonder what it is that makes listening to falling rain have such a soothing effect on people?"

"Not to me," Matt conceded, walking over to the fridge to get two bottles of beer for them. "Raindrops are interference. They disrupt the patterns, drown out the important sounds. They're quite difficult to navigate around sometimes."

Foggy almost blushed. He hadn't considered that. "Yeah," he just said. "Makes sense. Kind of."

Matt sat down in the armchair, holding out one of the bottles to Foggy. "Are we having this conversation now, or what?"

"What conversation?"

"I don't know. The one you wanted to have."

"Yeah," he said again, taking the proffered bottle as he sat down on the couch opposite Matt. "I... don't know where to start."

"How about where we left off? How we move forward...?"

"No," Foggy shook his head. "I think we need to pedal back just a little. Like... like the last time I was here in this very spot, and you telling me some whackadoodle story about hearing a girl crying in her room somewhere down the block, expecting me to... I don't know, understand or sympathize or... show compassion."

"Like that time you walked out on me?" Matt cut in. It had a bitter undertone, but the sadness that swung in his voice was hard to miss.

"Come on, that's not fair."

"Well, yeah, that's just it. Life isn't fair. None of this is fair. Do you think I asked for this?"

"No!" Foggy said vehemently. "I know you didn't ask for this. But you get why I'm pissed, right?"

"Foggy, I'm blind, not stupid."

"But you're not really, are you?"

Matt sighed. "Are we back to this again?"

There was a pregnant pause, then Foggy let out his breath. "No, I guess not."

In a low voice, Matt said, "I get why you're pissed. I've lied to you. For years. Kept something big from you."

Foggy let out a hollow chuckle, but Matt ignored it and went on. "And I shouldn't have. Or... I don't know... it always felt like the right thing to do. It was... I guess I was afraid that it'd mess things up between us. I mean, how do you break this to your best friend? 'Hey, by the way, at night I go right the wrongs in this city, beat up a few guys, occasionally put them in the hospital. It's no big deal, really. You're cool with that, right?'

"And then it got bigger, and messier, and I realized that everyone who knew about this would become a potential target. I didn't want to do that to you. You're too important to me."

Foggy looked at him, studied his face, saw the emotion playing in his unfocused eyes, in the furrowed lines on his forehead. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Yeah, I get that. But that's just one part of it. The more important part is that you pretended to be completely blind, to be helpless. Well, no, not helpless. You've never been helpless. Just... you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Matt confirmed.

Foggy's breath hitched just a little bit. "Why?"

"Same reason."

"You were afraid I'd quit being your friend?"

Matt closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "I guess."

"You _guess_?" Foggy said incredulously.

"Look, it... it became this thing, like when you try to figure out the way and maneuver yourself into a ditch, and then you try to reverse, but you only dig the wheels in deeper, and eventually the only way is to continue forward rather than back."

"Dude, bad analogy, you've never even _driven_ a car."

Matt lifted his arms in a 'Do you want to hear it, or not?' gesture.

Foggy quickly said, "Sorry, go on."

"Most of my life, I've been the blind guy. People look at me, and they see a person with special needs. But never you. I've always just been Matt Murdock to you—the way I was. You maneuvered around all that disability crap and brushed it aside. And that was... That was pretty special."

He paused, letting it hang in the air for an instant before he harrumphed against the emotion in his voice. "If I'd told you about my abilities, can you honestly say that things would have stayed the same between us?"

Foggy considered that for a long moment, fumbling with the label of the beer bottle that was coming loose in one corner. "Honest answer? I don't know. But I wish you'd given me the choice to find out."

Matt nodded ever so slightly. "In hindsight, maybe that would have been the right thing to do."

"Okay, so let me ask you this," Foggy said, "If I hadn't come into your apartment that night I found you bleeding half to death, would you _ever_ have told me?"

Matt stayed silent, and there was Foggy's answer right there. It broke another little piece inside of him, and he couldn't keep the anger and disappointment at bay, couldn't keep his voice from raising, "You wouldn't have, would you?! Come on, Matt, I deserve a fucking answer!"

Matt's voice was almost inaudible. "I don't know, Foggy."

Foggy's eyes filled with unbidden tears. The emotion was thick in his voice. "Yeah," he let out. "That's what I thought."

He got up and walked away a few steps. If he'd still been facing his friend, he'd have seen that tears spilled from Matt's eyes that he quickly, angrily wiped away. It was Matt's deep, dejected voice that made him turn back around.

"I know it will never be enough, but I'm sorry. I wish there was a way I could fix this."

The aggression was still present in Foggy's voice. "Well, you _can_."

"Can you not understand my side in this? Not even a little bit?"

Foggy shook his head almost imperceptibly, not that Matt would even notice it. Or maybe he would, what did _he_ know? He considered Matt's question, and as much as he hated to admit it, there was a certain understanding there that he couldn't deny.

"If you're asking if I'd have done the same thing, I told you before: No, I wouldn't."

"That wasn't my question."

Damn the man's calm, soft voice. Damn his uncanny ability to cut right down to your core and steer straight into the center of the maelstrom. Maybe it was time to own up to the whole bloody mess they had maneuvered themselves into and start an honest attempt to clean it up.

"I understand your motivations. Doesn't mean I think any of it is right. Doesn't mean I think you should keep doing this." He lowered his voice. "Doesn't mean it will keep me from worrying that you're lying half dead somewhere every time you don't answer my call or open up when I'm knocking on your door at night."

Matt blinked in silence, his eyes darting in different directions. It was rare for Matt not to hide them behind sunglasses, but Foggy had seen the undisguised face of Matt Murdock often enough to tell that he had hit a soft spot.

What surprised Foggy was that Matt's mouth curved into the slightest of smiles when he said, "I think I may actually have a solution to that."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Body armor."

Foggy half-gaped at him. "Body armor? Seriously?"

Matt let out a light chuckle. "Probably not what you think."

"Oh yeah? What do I think?"

"Hm, let me see... Along the lines of Iron Man?"

"Am I that predictable?"

Matt got up and went over to the bedroom to thrown on a suit jacket. He put on his glasses and gestured in the general direction of the door. "Come on, we have work to do."

Foggy looked at his watch, which showed 10:26 pm. "Now? I'm still half wet, and wearing your ratty sweater."

Matt shrugged. "We have radiators. You'll live. And who's going to see you anyway?" He was already on his way to the door where he fetched his cane in a practiced motion.

Foggy resigned to his fate. "All right, Tony Stark, I'll bite."

As he pulled the door to Matt's apartment shut behind him, he realized something. For the first time in days, he genuinely felt that his assurance to Karen that things were going to turn out okay might actually be more than just wishful thinking.

* * *

THE END.


End file.
